


snapshot

by quietmoon



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Linear Narrative, Substance Abuse, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 14,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietmoon/pseuds/quietmoon
Summary: A lifetime of falling, told in snapshots. (or; one hundred ways Erza loved him, and ninety-nine times he said it back.)





	1. x ; where it did not begin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wtfshu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfshu/gifts).



> _cross-posted from[ff.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11730479/1/snapshot)_
> 
> Written to Work Song by Hozier and inspired by 'One Hundred Ways To Say I Love You'. If all goes to plan, this fic should be 102 chapters with a new chapter every day (more or less). It is undoubtedly two parts plot, eight parts self-indulgence. Still, I hope you enjoy reading it.

Given the chance, she'd fall again.

Erza fingers the the frayed edge of the folded tissue. It's the last thing he gave her, a left-over promise; _don't open this until after._ And tacked on as an afterthought, _open it in front of me._

 _It's just a ratty tissue,_ she hadn't said. _It doesn't mean anything._

Maybe he's written something on it. Maybe something's hidden inside. She doesn't know and she didn't want to find out. Jellal has always been exemplary at saying goodbye, and the last thing Erza wants is a reminder of that — the last thing she wants, and probably the only thing she needs.

It is quiet in the corridor. Like the world's paused for him; like it, too, doesn't want to go on, doesn't know if it _can_ , without—

She folds in on herself, tucking her head against her knees and pressing the soft tissue against her forehead like she's praying. The tears come unbidden and the way her mouth twists, her shoulders tense, her teeth grit — it all hurts, it all hurts, _it all hurts_. Quiet hiccups that she can't quite hold back, and a bittersweet longing, a purely bitter loneliness, filling up her lungs like water.

The only thought that stands clear in her mind, free and proud and heartbreaking, is that she would live it over regardless; she'd bear the pain, all of it, over and over and over, if it _meant_ — She grips the tissue tighter.

The most important thing she's learned from him is that there are a lot of different ways to say 'I love you'.

 _Not sorry. Not sorry. Not sorry._ The defiance, even in her mind, overtakes all the senses and burns into her bones.

"I'd do it all again," she whispers to no-one. "Every time."


	2. 24 ; and again

Dark nights lit by street lights, the empty road passing by with lamps like a heartbeat. She muffles another yawn behind her wrist, squinting her eyes against the tiredness. Occasionally, another car passes, a blink of bright headlights, but otherwise they're essentially alone.

"Erza."

"…Hmm?" She tilts her head, gaze still resting on the dark empty highway. "I thought you were asleep."

"Pull over." His hand settles over hers on the gear stick, warm and steady and still bewilderingly tentative, and even after two years of living her life alongside his, it makes something in her chest flutter like it's a novelty. "Let me drive for a while."


	3. 17 ; with

His blush is exactly how she had, alone at night with only a pillow to as witness, imagined it would be — messy, a full-faced flush, and so utterly endearing a tingling heat crawls up her cheeks in response.

"It—" He clears his throat, unfurling his fingers so she can see what he's holding out. "It reminded me of you."

The words strike a chord Erza didn't know her heart could play. She takes the charm with trembling fingers from an equally shaky hand, wondering at the intricate details on the tiny model castle. Little turrets poke at the pad of her thumb with a pleasant sting as she admires the masterfully crafted windows, the beautifully carved drawbridge, the miniscule flag flying from the top of a medieval kingdom she can hold in the palm of her hand.

She knew he was taking his little sister to the museum that Saturday, spent all weekend looking forward to his stories of grand war murals and medieval armour that still shone and gleamed; for that, she had prepared herself, but to walk into homeroom to _this_...

"You like it." It's said more with relief than triumph but her stomach flutters all the same.

"I _love_ it," she corrects, beaming at him. The stretch of her cheeks is the best feeling. "How did you know—?"

At this, Jellal laughs, "What, a history nerd like you? _Please,_ " and dodges her half-hearted punch with a pleased grin. "Of course I knew."

She bites her lip, looking down at the tiny gift again. _Of course you did._ Erza curls her fingers around it like it's fragile.

(And if she keeps it in her schoolbag every day, enjoys the warm glow it gives her like a baby sun, well, nobody needs to know.)


	4. 19 ; when i ruined it

"Let go," she wants to hiss, "leave me alone, leave me be," but the words come out of her mouth slurred and slow. The night is a jumble and Erza squints at it through blurry eyes. Her head pounds, loud and aching to the beat of the music, and she whines deep in her throat at the dull throb of it all in her skull. It's scary because she's falling all over the place, and some distant part of her mind knows that she's going to regret this in the morning, _so badly._

And the floor, it swoops and tilts and dances from under her feet, and the only thing steady in the world right now is his arm around her waist and his hip against her back.

She wants to tell him this isn't like her, this isn't normal, she would never usually do this, this isn't the Erza she wants him to know, but her mouth is sewn shut with alcohol and her screaming headache is talking over all her good intentions.

She's suddenly hit with a blast of cold air, freezing air, God, it's _freezing_ , and then he's slowly, carefully, forcefully maybe but who knows, the world's spinning, he's carrying her — dragging her? — walking her to a car. It's a taxi.

His warmth doesn't leave her body, not when she's trying to clamber in and stumbling so hard she bruises her shin, not when she's slumped over her knees and throwing up in the back, not when the taxi driver shouts and Jellal shuts him up with a ferocious glare and a muttered "I'll pay the fine, just get us home already."

 _It's Jellal_ , Erza understands, trying her best to sober up, trying her best to stay conscious truth be told. _This is Jellal._

 _This is fucking alcohol poisoning,_ another part of brain supplies.

Getting out of the taxi — disgusting and hot and reeking, she's humiliated, college students are an absolute mess, she's a _mess_ , a giant fucking mess— and the cold air hits her again, but this time it clears her head to the point where she can lean against the car without needing his support. And he — _it's Jellal,_ she thinks uselessly (hopelessly, God, she's completely lost control, hasn't she? And no, _no_ , Erza, don't cry, don't cry, you've put him through enough tonight) — he goes round and pays the taxi driver, and she hears him, she hears him say it when he catches her staring and understands the widened eyes.

"No, no," and his chuckle is dark and worried, "it's my treat."

And in with the shards of shame and stabbing pain slips an inevitable fondness.


	5. 5 ; when you fixed it

She's crying when he first sees her, quiet and crouched, folded in on herself. And he's not sensitive about it at all, as five year old boys are apt not to be, and the first thing he thinks to do is poke her in the back with a jab so hard she forgets to cry for a moment and turns to glare it at him.

"What was that for!?"

"Why are you crying?" the boy asks her, eyes round with curiosity and brow furrowed with concern.

"None of your business," she huffs, turning away from him and hiding her head in her knees with a great sniff. "Go away."

She doesn't look around again but she knows he's still there and if she felt like it, she'd push him away herself and run off to a more secluded corner of the playground. But as it is, the most Erza can manage is a high whine and another affronted huff. She wants, more than anything, to be left alone.

"Come here," the boy eventually says, and it takes her by surprise so suddenly that she altogether forgets to ignore him and turns around to stare.

Her narrowed eyes do little to dissuade him.

"Come here," he repeats authoritatively. He puts his hands on his waist and straightens his back, giving the impression of trying to look bigger than he is. "Let me fix it."

She peeks up at him with a questioning look, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

His determined look melts into something gentler. Friendly. _Accommodating._ "It's what my dad says when I've hurt myself. You've gotta kiss it better."

"It's not a _boo-boo_ ," she mumbles angrily, squinting at the ground. "You can't just kiss me better."

The boy crouches down to look her in the eye with an earnest grin. "I can try!"


	6. 16 ; up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far! Reading your theories and reactions is fast becoming the highlight of my day (and also gives me ideas for future chapters, uhuhu~). I'm especially blown away by readers who put more thought and analysis into these snapshots than I do; kudos to you, omg, you're too smart. I don't deserve such clever feedback. ; - ;

Erza looks out at the rain with a pensive expression. Behind her, she can hear others from various sports clubs having similar reactions, lamenting the weather. Students walk past her, opening umbrellas with what she's convinced herself is a smug air.

 _Well_ , she thinks, straightening her back and grabbing the strap of her bag, _a little rain never hurt anyone._

She's reached the school gates when she sees him, standing and smiling and chatting with a bunch of kids from his class. At this point, Erza can admit to herself — she's overly aware of Jellal. Childhood friends grown apart; the story's common enough, and she's spent the better part of two years pining after him while in denial that she cares about him at all.

Erza knows what a _crush_ is, okay. She's not that ignorant.

And as usual, her heart does that stupid flip it always does when she sees him, and she must falter or something in her step because that second of hesitation is enough for him to glance her way and catch her eye.

His eyes widen and damn it, she can't _help_ the reddening cheeks, trust her, she's _tried_ — and he quickly turns to say bye to his friends before, _oh God,_ before _jogging over_.

He holds the umbrella out over her, leaving himself half in the rain.

She smiles at him thankfully before arranging her features in what she hopes is politely curious (and not hopelessly lovestruck). He just gestures to her dripping hair by ways of explanation before nodding at her in a business-like manner. "Lead the way."

She frowns in confusion.

"I'll walk you home," Jellal murmurs by way of explanation, and smiles quietly — _can_ you smile quietly? Erza doesn't know but Jellal definitely pulls it off anyway, half-hidden and almost like a secret, like something he can't help. It's the best smile; a rare smile; smiles she can collect and keep for rainy days like today.

"Y-You don't have to—!"

"I know." He won't look at her. "Let's go."

"Seriously—" She wants to insist, doesn't want to bother him, doesn't want to be the annoying girl down the street that ruined his after-school plans.

"I-I _know_ , Erza," he repeats resolutely.

Then she sees how the quiet smile has curved into a bashful one, his pink cheeks mirroring hers, and the sudden rush of giddiness is nearly more than she can bear.

She's smiling back before she can help herself, tucking herself closer to him. He blinks, flustered but, dare she admit it to herself... pleased. "You're getting yourself all wet," she teases. "Come on, then. Let's go."


	7. 23 ; we

Jellal kisses her every morning before he leaves bed. He thinks she doesn't know.

One day she can't hide the twitching of her lips from him and his huff of exasperation brings out the smile hiding in her mouth. Kisses in the morning with Jellal are lazy and sweet, muted and comfortable and so gentle it almost hurts. He has to pull away after the fourth because she's smiling too wide.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, sees the crinkle of his hazel eyes as he grins and that ridiculous tattoo, Erza wonders why falling in love feels like flying.

He looks at her for a moment, expression unreadable, before pressing his lips to her forehead and murmuring into her skin, "Go back to sleep."

She hums in answer, enjoying his warmth while she can. Then pulls the blankets to her chin and watches him pad across the room. Tilts her head in goodbye when he turns back. "Have a good day at work."


	8. 24 ; bad timing

"I dreamt of you last night," he murmurs against her temple, fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

The hospital bed is too small and she's curled around his body like she's clinging to him for life. The beeping in the room is steady, a backdrop to every word he breathes.

Erza stays silent, and tightens her arms around him. There's something stuck in her throat and she's scared — scared that if she lets it out, she'll never get the chance to take it back. She doesn't want him to see her cry.

He twirls a red strand around his fingers loosely. "Don't you wanna hear about it?"

 _Definitely not._ "Did no-one ever tell you?" She clears her throat and glances up with a smile stretched too wide. "There's nothing more boring than hearing about other people's dreams."

His laughter, gentle as it is, makes her shake. He's grinning when he says, "You've spending too much time around those friends of yours. That's exactly something Gray would say."

This time, her smile's real. "I guess I have."

_But who's fault is that, Jellal?_


	9. 19 ; first

"Take my seat."

Erza clenches her jaw and keeps her gaze locked on the window, watching the tunnels race by as the train hurtles forward. The carriage is crowded enough that nobody else notices Jellal's hissed command— " _Ugh_ ," and she can't keep the groan in, it just slips out when she's jostled forward and forced onto her swollen ankle, and without hesitation he's getting up himself and grabbing her arm and pushing her towards his vacated seat.

"Ignore me all you want," and his voice is a murmur far gentler than anything she was prepared to deal with, "I can bear it. But you're not putting yourself through unnecessary pain just to spare my feelings, Erza."

Her lips thin as she curls back into the seat reflexively, staring at the ground. He must eventually realise that he's not getting a response from her, but, and she's taken by surprise, the huff that escapes his lips sounds... _hurt._

"It's not like I'd resent you," he says quietly. He knows exactly what he's doing — knows he's got her where she can't run away — turn the corner, close the door, end the conversation before he can bring up what she's avoiding even in her thoughts. "If you'd just told me you couldn't return my feelings. It's not like I'd..."

There must be something Jellal sees in her flinch that she hadn't meant to show him, because he shuts up after that. Erza spends the rest of the ride before his stop hating herself with every fibre of her being, wondering what he was going to say, terrified in the back of her mind that she's guessing right.


	10. 11 ; twelve

"H-Happy birthday," she pants, peering at him through the gap in the fence. "I'm sorry I had to miss your party."

"It's alright," he stares back at her, eyes wide and curious with his token soft smile. "Here." He pushes a grubby hand through the space, a moist napkin-wrapped parcel resting in his palm. "It's strawberry jam sponge. I saved a piece for you."

When her eyes light up and she gasps with joy, he beams back, confident and pleased.

Today, Erza is okay. She's okay with going home to that house and that man; she's okay with the shouting of last night, the bruises on her wrists and her tender palms when she couldn't keep the anger in either. She's okay with it all, because the boy down the street (her friend, _her friend_ ) saved a piece of his birthday cake for her for no other reason than he wanted to.

She glances apprehensively around her, as if the windows of her house are open and staring at her instead of grimy with drawn curtains a five minute walk away. Then she unwraps it, gentler than she needs to be, and admires the cake — for all of four seconds before she opens her mouth wide and takes a rich, happy bite.

When she groans from the pleasure in her singing tastebuds, he grins. "Good, right?"

She just nods vehemently, chomping down for another taste. _It's the best thing I've ever tasted_ , Erza swears to herself. _It really is._

There's a small drop of wax on the white icing, bright blue, unmissable, and Jellal laughs ruefully when she daintily picks it off.

"Did you make a wish?"

He puffs out his chest, suddenly acting his age instead of his appearance, twelve and undaunted (because he shot up last year and Erza's still not used to craning her neck to look him in the eye). "Of course."

"Am I allowed to ask what for?" Erza mumbles around a mouthful of sweetness.

He stares at her for a moment, eyes too bright, before shaking his head slowly. "...D-Definitely not."

She raises an eyebrow over the fold of the napkin. _The tastiest thing in the world_ , she re-affirms, and finishes the last of her slice with an appreciative bite.


	11. 21 ; wasn't what i wanted

His thumb rubs circles against the back of her hand. Comforting and steady and warm. Her Jellal.

Her breath isn't shaky but it's not quite... normal, either. _It's weird_ , Erza thinks. _It's so weird._ She's spent three years estranged from the man buried in front of her and it's only now that there's a gravestone with her father's name on it that she can think of anything she'd want to say to him.

Instead, she finds herself clutching at Jellal's hand like a lifeline. "Remember when we first met?"

If he's surprised with the sudden question, he doesn't show it. "In the playground? Yeah, I remember. You were crying."

Erza nods, eyes not straying from the smooth stone. "It was because he twisted my arm back that morning, and it wouldn't stop hurting. 'Cause I asked him to tie my hair up for me and we were running late." She shakes her head, scoffing lightly. "Something so stupid."

She's sure it's by reflex, the way his hand tightens around hers protectively.

"And... And remember your twelfth birthday?"

He doesn't say anything this time but she takes his silence as acknowledgement.

"How I had to miss it because he wouldn't let me leave the house?"

Now her breath shakes. It confuses her. Why's she crying? She hated him. Why is she crying? _I hated him_ , Erza reminds herself. _I **hated** him._

"Erza," Jellal murmurs, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. His chest is warm against her shoulders, and she leans back into him, her shield against the cold. "I'm sorry for your loss."

And with that, it's like the dams break, like some artificial wall comes tumbling down. "I-I..." Her voice sounds broken, so unlike her, but she's crying and she can't help it— "I hated him, you know."

He hums, a deep vibration in his chest. "I know."

"B-But I think I—" Her shoulders start shaking. "I—..."

"I know," Jellal says again, leaning his chin on her shoulder and leaning his cheek against hers. His voice is so soft; so gentle. He's so kind with her, so careful, _nothing_ like—

"Why?" she demands from the gravestone in front of her, lonely and bereaved and relieved and so heartbroken she can't bear it, doesn't even know where it's coming from (and maybe that's the worst part). "Why do we love what breaks us? Why... D-Damn it..."

Something new in his voice, something sharp, something hurt— "Erza..." Jellal turns her around and she lets him, lets his arms pull her to his body and lets his chest mute her grieving. She let's herself get lost in the warmth he offers against the dry cold of the evening — against the guilt she feels for loving the man who, albeit accidentally, raised her to be as strong as steel.

But right now, she is guilt incarnate. Betraying herself for mourning him. Betraying him by berating herself for it. Confused and hurting, like the dagger's invisible but she's bleeding herself dry.

 _Why do we love what hurts_ us? she whispers into his chest, words unspoken but the meaning there. _Why do we always need what we also need to lose?_

And again, when Jellal's arms tighten around her, the only thought she can think (and oh, does she hate herself for feeling like a traitor even for letting her heart feel it) is that she hopes this boy will never, ever have to give her the answers to those questions.

_I'd rather never know than learn from you._


	12. 24 ; laugh with me

"You can have half," he jokes, pulling the tray towards him. There's a bowl of thin, runny soup, and a glass of water.

"That's not funny."

"Well, maybe I'll keep it all to myself then if that's your attitude."

The smile peeks out in defiance of her intentions and Jellal takes it like a trophy, kissing her suddenly and with a forcefulness so unlike himself that it leaves her out of breath, heart a-flutter. Before she can reciprocate, even respond, he's pulled back. "It was a little funny," he murmurs against her lips.

( _Why do we love what breaks us? **Why** do we need what we also need to lose?_ Oh, but Erza knows. She knows exactly why.)

She shakes her head, red hair brushing against his cheek, and takes a deep breath before re-adjusting the tape of his IV for the millionth time. "Drink your soup already."

(Of _course_ she knows, but that doesn't make living with it any easier.)


	13. 20 ; second

She hasn't seen him for months when he shows up on her doorstep, wind-swept with eyes rimmed in red.

"Listen. Listen, Erza. I— We—"

Of course, he cuts off immediately when he sees four curious eyes peering from behind her shoulder, so she offers to step outside with him if only to give them the privacy they deserve from her well-meaning but chronically nosy friends.

(Neither of them miss Natsu calling out something inappropriate just before she can close the door, and it doesn't quite cut off Lucy's indignant reprimand.)

Undeterred, Jellal tells her in no simple terms that he wants to be with her even if he doesn't think he deserves to be — even if neither of them do. And she takes it all in, lets his words sink into her skin and warm her bones, lets the year of fuck-ups, drunken staggers home, loneliness, of _no-thank-you_ s and _it's-complicated_ s all wash from her system.

"I know we've got our issues," he says, "and I know we're gonna have to work at it, I know I have a lot to work on, I _know_ that. But I want to, because I want you, I want _all_ of you, every day, every hour from now on," like it's easy, like it's been building up in him and only now is flowing out like a waterfall of missed chances. And at the end, _tacked on like an afterthought_ , "i-if you'll have me," and of course, that's what does it.

Erza's never been able to say no when Jellal's being brave, after all. When he holds his arms out, hesitant, smile bashful like they're sixteen all over again and he's offering to share his umbrella, she steps into his embrace. And it's like coming home.

At her shiver, he steps back with a rueful smile. "Take my jacket. It's cold tonight."

She finally, finally, finally returns that smile. The tingling warmth in her cheeks, the blush that belongs to him, feels so _good_. But the doubts creep up like they always do, vying to ruin the moment, or give it their best shot at least. "Jellal... It— I haven't... I still can't—"

He nods. "I know that. I know you've... I know you've got just as many demons as I do. I know—"

"Jellal, I can't just forget it so easily—"

"I'm not asking you to, Erza, I don't want you to forget—"

"Because I'm not good at this, I've never been good at this, you know what my dad's like— w-was like, I mean, I still haven't even spoken to him..."

He nods, and takes a step closer so that she has to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. "I know. I'm not asking you to forget, Erza."

She bites her lip, wanting to look away, but unable to, utterly unable to. "I don't know if I'm ready."

"Me neither," he admits a little sheepishly. "I'm—... Well, you know what happened last year. I'm not exactly the best at... this sort of stuff."

It's her turn to nod.

"But," and he's stepping even closer, close enough for Erza to feel the heat of his heavy exhale, "I want to try. If it's with you, I can't _not_ try, Erza."

"I don't know if I can fix it this time," she whispers.

Jellal ducks his head so he's almost at eye level with her. "If you can't, I will. _I'll_ fix it." A tiny quirk at the corner of his lips; you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it. (Erza's always been looking for it, though.) "Let me kiss it better."

And... well, and he does just that.

 _(Or at least, he tries to. She pushes him away after a second, flustered and laughing._ "You can't just kiss me better, idiot." _And a minute later finds him smiling against her lips, breathing the words into her mouth,_ "But can't I try?" _)_


	14. 24 ; before

Over and over and over in her head, the events repeat, nonsensical and inescapable. It won't sink in. How can it? These kinds of things don't happen, not to her, not to Jellal, not to _them_.

Too sudden, too unexpected, _not fair_ , the world gave them no warning— Was it really yesterday they were driving back? Was it really last night — earlier _tonight_ — that he swapped with her because he was worried she was getting tired? She doesn't understand how that could be, how she got from the passenger seat on the dark highway to here, to _here_ , it doesn't make sense at all...

But she's there, isn't she, she's sitting in the waiting room through his fourth hour in ER, barely clued in on surgeries and procedures that are keeping him breathing. She's playing her mind through how she found him throwing up blood on the bathroom floor. She's hearing the sirens in her head, the paramedics, her own hysteria, all over again like an alarm that can't shut off.

When he's finally released into his own room, and she's allowed to at least see him, he's asleep. The hospital bed's too small for him, but he still looks so vulnerable, so unlike himself, that Erza has to cover her mouth with her hand as she stares.

It takes him three hours to wake up and everything tumbles out of her mouth in a messy disaster. "You were in surgery for hours and I've been waiting and you're here and so am I and I waited and you took _forever_ and I was so scared, Jellal, I was _terrified..._ "

He blinks his bleary eyes and Erza has to hold back her sob of relieved laughter. "S-Sorry I'm late."

But, of course, this is Jellal, and she can't hold anything back at all. It comes out broken and wet, the tears escaping her eyes as she gives him a smile; a small and fragile thing. She bumps her forehead against his fondly. "Idiot."

He returns it in that same quiet way he always does and Erza has to pretend not to see the wince — for her own sake. In her gut is an overwhelming feeling; a confused nonsensical thing, but unavoidable, unbearable... that this, whatever this is, is somehow, in some way, the beginning of an ending.

 _But_ , Erza thinks as Jellal twirls her hair round his finger, humming a soft tune into the crook of her neck, _it wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong. It wouldn't be the first time goodbye has lost to this man._


	15. 23 ; mistaken

_This is happily ever after,_ Erza thinks when he pulls her his chest at 2am and slowly twirls them around the kitchen to a hummed melody.

"Can I have this dance?" he asks her, eyes glinting with humour.

She wipes the smirk off his face with a well-timed kiss and takes pleasure in the shaky gasp he released against her lips. If she collects his quiet smiles for rainy days, she steals gasps from him for lonelier nights.

 _This is happily ever after_ , she hums in her mind, arching her back when he dips her back against the kitchen top, his eyes glinting with quiet-apartment mischief, warm hands wandering, _and nothing can take that from me._


	16. 23 ; missing ingredient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to Come Back... Be Here by Taylor Swift. It doesn't really suit the fic as a whole but it did inspire this particular chapter. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It's so domestic Erza can't help but let slip one indulgent smile, just a little, just for herself. She hikes her shoulder up in a held shrug, balancing the phone against her ear so she can measure two tablespoons of oil properly.

A smile is audible in his voice. "What are you doing right now?"

It takes her a moment to answer, focused on not spilling any excess oil into the pan. "Trying not to set fire to my dinner."

"It would be such a shame to waste all your endeavours over the last forty minutes."

She doesn't try hide her grin this time. "Thirty minutes."

"You started at—"

"Getting the vegetables out of the fridge and washing them didn't count."

Jellal laughs at that, deep and low. They continue to banter back and forth as she twirls around the kitchen, always at her own pace, pausing in her stirring with the wooden spoon to slip a dish into the sink or throw onion peels in the bin or wipe spilled spices off the table counter. When she switches the phone to her other shoulder, she realises that the amount of stir-fry in the pan is definitely more than one serving, and it makes her purse her lips in exasperation.

He catches onto her little huff. Which in itself is saying something — but he's always had that ridiculous sixth sense, that instinctive way he knows her, all the ins and outs of her thoughts, all the funny little things other people don't think to notice. "What?" he asks good-naturedly. "Did you forget an ingredient?"

Erza shakes her head before realising he won't have seen it. "No, I just—" She sighs again, frustrated. "I made too much again. I'm still not used to cooking for one person."

It takes a moment for her to realise what she's said, and she wants to hurry back and catch the words, reel them back. Of course, she _can't_ , and she winces, mentally cursing herself. Of course he'll take it the wrong way. He always does when it comes to this.

Predictably, his guilty silence affirms her worries, and she's just opening her mouth to stumble through an awkward apology when he cuts her off quickly, rushing the words like he's worried he'll forget them if he doesn't get them out fast enough. "I can't wait to come home again, I miss you so much, I want to hold you."

The breath Erza took to speak comes out in an unsteady exhale. She bites her lip, fiddling with the end of the wooden spoon as she stirs absent-mindedly; the stir-fry is, for a moment, forgotten.

"I want to wake up to you in the morning again," Jellal continues, unable to stop now that he's started. "I want to walk through the door when it's dark and tell you about my day and laugh at bad day-time TV on Saturday mornings and argue over how many boxes of grapes we should buy on our weekly grocery trip. I miss the warmth of your hands." He sighs, deep and drawn-out. "I miss the strawberry scent of your hair. I miss your awful burned Sunday roasts. I miss you, Erza. I _miss_ you."

"Jellal..." She closes her eyes and covers her face, hiding the smile from an empty apartment. "God, I miss you, too. Eight weeks feels so much longer than it should. Stupid work trip."

Again, with that mysterious sixth sense that only he possesses, like he can see her standing in the kitchen hugging herself, Jellal clears his throat and murmurs into her ear, "I'll be with you soon, though. I'll be back home before we know it."

All she can do is hum in reply, unable to stop the sudden onslaught of emotion welling up in her chest. She glances around for a bowl to pour the stir-fry into, and interrupting the warm quiet, Jellal's voice crackles out of the receiver again.

"You never told me what kind of stir-fry you made."

This makes her giggle as she tips the pan, watching the goldened vegetables slip into the bowl. "Don't be mad," she grins. "I made your favourite. Chargrilled pepper and chicken with Mexican spice."

His answering groan of longing, so genuine and pained — _"You're trying to kill me, Erza..."_ — turns her smirk into full-blown, clutching-at-your-stomach laughter.

 _It's you who'll be the death of me_ , she wants to whisper to him, but it's too intimate for an evening's phone call, and she lets the thought curl around the special place in her heart she keeps only for him. _Where one goes, the other follows. That's just how we are._


	17. 17 ; new stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another song I think really fits the ambience of this fic is When We Were Young by Adele. Not so much the lyrics, but the feel of the song overall.

Erza hears the automatic doors slide open and it makes her jump, looking back with a guilty expression and the inexplicable feeling of being caught. Of course she's not meant to be out here, none of the students are, but it's hardly unheard of. Second year trips are made to break the rules, after all. In first year, everyone's too timid, and in third year the thrill's worn off — this is the time in high school to break the rules, right?

Or, at least that's what she told herself when she sneaked out of her class' bedroom, carefully padding across the tatami mats so as not to wake up any of the other girls.

For a moment the person coming outside is silhouetted against the bright light of the lobby, but then the scruffy hair regains its colour, and Erza finds herself watching him with a raised eyebrow as he make his way to her. Hands stuffed in pockets, scarf thrown messily around his neck in a half-hearted attempt to look like his trip out here was planned, Jellal doesn't look up at her until he's an arm's length away.

She blinks at him, a silent question in the way she bites her lip, but he simply shakes his head and looks up at the sky like she was doing a moment ago.

But Erza doesn't want the silence, not when it feels like such a perfect opportunity to talk to him — to _really_ talk to him like she hasn't had the chance to do for... for _ages_.

"Couldn't sleep?" It comes out huskier than she'd intended, voice rusty with disuse and words coming out in a white puff of cold air.

He shakes his mutely, gaze glued to the stars.

She waits for him to continue the conversation, and, when he doesn't, joins him in looking up.

Their home city is hardly big enough to warrant the title, but in the more rural north, Hokkaido puts their hometown to shame. The light pollution isn't obvious until they've left it behind, and only with that distance did Erza realise just what she was missing — just how much she was blind to.

Distance is strange like that. It has a funny way of sneaking up on you and making even what was normal, what felt good and right and as perfect as it ever would be, seem dull or... incomplete. Like there's something more to come; like there's more that you should be allowed to expect. As if the horizon is holding something from you, just out of sight, and when the sun rises you'll get to see a new world with your own eyes.

With Jellal by her side, looking up with her in a comfortable quiet, it strikes Erza just how far that rule extends.

Distance is... a very strange thing indeed.

She's given up on striking up a conversation when he starts one for her. "I was getting tea from the vending machine when I saw you sneak out," he murmurs. When she glances at him, he's still looking up, almost speaking to the night rather than her. Maybe that's why he says what he does next — maybe he, too, can feel something else in the air between them, something different, something new, something that was hidden under proximity until now. "I couldn't help but follow you, but that's normal, I guess. I didn't want to disturb you, but..." A noncommital shrug. She doesn't know what he means by it. Maybe he doesn't mean anything at all. "Like I said, I can't help myself."

"Sorry," Erza finds herself whispering, matching his quiet tone. Anything louder would feel wrong. "I just wanted to—..." She tries something else, "The sky is so much clearer up north. The stars are so beautiful, it would have been such a shame to miss them."

He looks down at that, at the ground in front of him. And Erza can see, in the dim light from the windows behind them, his rueful smile. "Don't apologise. I'm glad I followed you. Missing this would have been a crime."

"Sorry," she says again, biting her lip and smiling and looking down all at once.

"It's okay," he insists quietly. "I couldn't sleep anyway. And I'd rather be out here."

Something different. Something new. Something that was hidden before now. Erza looks up at the inky dark, dotted with infinite light, at all the stars she couldn't see at home, and asks questions her heart cannot yet bear to answer.


	18. 15 ; butterflies

Erza's too caught up in conversation with Lucy when it happens, not paying attention to where she's going. It's been too long since she last saw her, and they have a whole holiday to catch up on, a whole high school career to talk about beginning. It's usually fine to open doors without looking at them so that's exactly what she does, not giving it the slightest thought—

Except someone on the other side pulls it open just as she leans into it, leaving her falling back into nothing with a high yelp.

"Whoops—" Steady arms catch her, more contact than she's used to with _anyone_ , and when she looks up with wide eyes she burns up on the spot.

Jellal is grinning down at her, looking far too pleased for someone who had to catch her out of the blue just now.

Before she can do anything, stomach leaping, insides fluttering, flustered beyond rationality, he rights her with a laughed, "Watch your step," and then he's walking away without a glance back, resuming conversation with his friend easily, smoothly.

Erza has to gulp a few times before the nervous laughter bubbles out in a rush. Lucy, on the other hand, looks torn between full-blown laughter and incredulity.

When Erza risks another glance at his retreating back, his broad back because he's grown so much since she last saw him a few months ago, she freezes to her place because— because there he is, looking back at her, smile still faint on his lips.

"Looks like someone had a worthwhile holiday," Lucy laughs to Erza, a little smirk curling her lips. "Do you think he spent the whole vacation working out, or just most of it?

Erza wants to slap her best friend on the arm. Or, worse, _so much worse_ , giggle along. Because yes, she can affirm: his arms were... noticeably strong. His biceps were curved with muscle she wouldn't have expected him to have, ready and capable.

She lets out a disgruntled groan, burying her flushed face in her hands as Lucy just giggles again and leads her further down the corridor.


	19. 7 ; magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue by Troye Sivan is another song which fits perfectly (although not for this chapter in particular hahaha...). I'm thinking about putting together an 8tracks playlist for this fic bc I'm pretty much building a soundtrack at this point. Would any of you be interested in that?

She falls against the ground with a dramatic moan, swooping her hair around her in a halo of red. "It's too late for me, I fear! I am too aff— affli— affilted—"

"Affilced," he corrects.

"Afflitted," she amends.

"You're too sick," he acquiesces.

"I'm too sick! Woe is me!" Erza raises a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes in feigned pain. "Please, go on without me. T-Tell the Grand King I'm sorry—"

"No!" Jellal cries, falling to his knees at her side with agonised expression. "I can't leave you like this! It's my fault you're sick, if only you hadn't taken the evil wizard's bonus attack spell for me—!"

"B-But the antidote, it is too far, I will not survive the journey!" Erza gasps out.

He looks stricken for a second before a heavy-set determination steals over his features. "I am not the greatest mage in the land for nothing. I shall fashion you a new antidote."

"You'll brew the potion here, great mage?"

"Yes!" He clambers back to his feet, knees and palms grubby with dirt, and glances around. Tearing a raggedy leaf from a nearby bush, he crumples it in his palm and sprinkles it across her face — Erza, of course, closes her eyes and lets him comb it into her hair, as a proper patient ought to do. "This should keep you alive until I return. Wait here! I shall go make it!" he pronounces, before rushing off inside the school building at a sprint.

Erza waits until he's out of sight before breaking character, pushing herself up with her hands and grinning. She pats at her head, making sure the crumpled leaf hasn't all fallen out, and glances around the playground. Most kids are grouped around the sandpit or the jungle gym, but she can see Lucy and Juvia talking animatedly in a patch of daisies, weaving crowns for each other, and Natsu, Gray, and Gajeel haphazardly sprint around the grass near her, playing some violent form of tag.

Jellal is soon back running across the playground, something clutched in his hand, and Erza falls back to the soft grass readily.

When he's in earshot, she groans, "I don't have long... I think I can see the light."

"Don't go into the light!" he cries just like they saw in a movie in class. "I have the antidote! Drink this, you'll feel better."

She reaches out blindly for what she's guessing will be an empty cup, or maybe a glass of water — what she gets instead is a small rectangular carton. Erza blinks and brings it up to examine; when she realises what he's handed her, she can't help but sit up abruptly and stare at him in alarm.

"Jellal, I can't drink your grape juice, it's your favourite, your mum packed this specially for you!"

He frowns, troubled. "I am not Jellal, I am the Great Wizard Saint. Don't stop the game, Erza, we're at the best part..."

She shakes her head. "But I can't—"

"You must!" he proclaims. "Or you will die. You are the greatest warrior in the land, and the Grand King's bravest knight. The kingdom cannot live without its Titania!" He places his hands on his hips and steadies her with a stern look. "Drink the antidote, my partner. So we can journey to the Tower of Heaven and you can take your place by the Grand King as Queen of the Fairies!"

"I—" She purses her lips in a last moment of hesitation, taken in by his speech, before determinedly grabbing at the straw and stabbing it through the carton. "Cheers!" she cries, and starts to sip at the straw.

Jellal grins at her. "Cheers!" He glances behind at Natsu playing tag with a ferocious vengeance, and turns back with a glint in his eye. "And onward we travel, to the land of the dragons!"


	20. 6 ; hello, hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important notes at the end (containing spoilers).

When she sees him, Erza has to stop herself from turning back around and running the other way. He doesn't notice her until she's just a few steps away from him, and her sudden presence makes him start with surprise.

"Erza?! What are you doing here?"

"I— My dad's here," she mumbles, rubbing self-consciously at her forearm. He said she wasn't allowed to tell anybody, but... well, Jellal wouldn't understand anyway, so it's fine, right? Still, she quickly goes on to ask, "Why are you here?"

"My sister," he says, eyes wide and bright.

That surprises her. "I didn't know you had a sister."

Jellal shakes his head. "Not yet, but I will in a bit. Dad says she's being borned right now. I'm gonna meet her after that, I'm not allowed to yet."

"Oh!" Erza beams. "You're _getting_ a sister!" She glances behind him where a man with the same hazel eyes and eye tattoo as Jellal is looking at her with mild curiosity, a light smile playing at his lips. It must be his father. "Is your mum getting her right now?"

The boy hums a yes, glancing back at his dad for confirmation.

"My mum never came back from getting me," Erza continues without much thought. "When I was borned she died. That's what my dad told me. It's hard getting a baby."

"I'm not scared, though," Jellal announces, puffing out his chest a little. "I know she'll be okay."

"Of course she will!" Erza nods firmly. "If you came okay, your sister will, too."

They continue like that, bantering back and forth about something and everything and nothing at all. When the conversation lulls a bit, Jellal repeats that he isn't afraid, but inches closer to her all the same.

"Can I hold your hand?" he asks, pouting. "I'm not scared, but—"

Erza holds her hand out without a second thought, and he grasps it gratefully, squeezing in a way only kids can. His palm is hot against hers, the warmth steadying, a deep comfort.

"Can I meet your sister?" she asks quietly after a moment of silence.

It makes him laugh, sudden and happy. "Not before me! But yeah, sure, if you wanna!"

She squeezes his hand back in thanks, and they stay like that, clutching at each other, until the nurse tells his dad it's okay for them to go in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now that we're at Chapter 20 I'm going to assume that if you've read this far you plan to stick around (—thanks, friend!). We're about a fifth of the way through, so I'm now going to tag warnings for **_triggers_** and **_squicks_** here. I know it gives away spoilers about future events but I think it's more important that readers who need to be aware of this stuff can be informed about what they read. Feel free to skip these if you don't want to be spoiled~.
> 
> The important ones are explicit: **hospitalization** ; **terminal illness** ; and **major character death**.  
> There's also implicit: **minor character death** ; **physical, emotional and sexual abuse** ; **substance abuse** ; whatever else crops up will be appropriately prefaced (and I'll also come back and update this note, too).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Your reviews inspire me to write like nothing else.


	21. 19 ; charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wrote 5k for this fic in one sitting thanks to a very evil app that locked me out of my computer. Its powers for inducing productivity are astounding, 10/10 would recommend ( _ **writersblock** dot **io**_ for the masochists among you). I'm exhausted omg hahaha. ;_;

Her throaty groan into the pillow gives away that she's awake, but Erza can't help herself. This is hell. This is _torture_. She knows she brought it upon herself, knows that this is what happens when you spend the night getting drunker than you have any business being, but the splitting headache, the sandpaper tongue, the rolling stomach and disgusting taste in her mouth... _eugh_ , it doesn't make her feel any more contrite or apologetic. She just feels full of regret, and pain, and suffering, and way too much alcohol...

"Good morning," he murmurs, keeping his voice quiet for her sake. "Here, drink this." She glances up to see him holding out a glass of water to her, expression unreadable, and forces herself to sit up and down it without taking too much stock of him or his bedroom—

His _bedroom_.

God, last night was a mistake.

"Your phone," he starts, and Erza knows, she just _knows_ that she does not want to hear what he's about to say, "it still has the charm on it. That little charm I got you in high school. The castle from the museum." He chuckles quietly, more to himself than anything. "I can't believe you kept it—"

"I should go, I have class." She gulps down the two pills on his bedside table and glances around for her jacket, wincing with every turn of her head.

She spies it in a tied plastic bag at the foot of the bed, clearly soaked in vomit. _Oh my God, are you kidding me? Oh my God._

Jellal walks to his chest of drawers and digs around for a moment and throws her a hoodie without any prompting — his grey NASA hoodie. "You can borrow mine," he murmurs, and it feels like a slap in the face.

 _Borrow as in the same as last time, or borrow with intent to return?_ Erza doesn't say, but she's sure her tight-lipped glower speaks volumes.

She just nods mutely and slowly slides out of the bed, not making eye contact with him. _There are worse things than hangovers_ , she thinks as she slips past him into the hallway, making straight for the door without another word. He doesn't follow her. _Scarier things._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will (finally) be replying to reviews in the next few days! *squeezy hug*


	22. 21 ; sweet tooth

"Hey, Erza!"

She ignores the call of her name for a moment, keeping her eyes locked to the shelf of biscuits she's currently perusing. Grocery shopping with Jellal always goes like this — she keeps the list, and he wanders off to find other items they 'need'. By which, of course, she means he hunts for weird new things for them to try while she ensures that they remain fed throughout the week.

A moment later, though, he calls her again from a nearby aisle. "Erza, can come here for a second, love?"

The big choice is between getting chocolate biscuits, the ones Jellal really loves to dip in tea and munch on in the morning when he's too sleepy to paymattention to his sugar intake — _or_ , she could get the plain sugared wafers, which she likes much more than the chocolate ones, and that Jellal is moderately fond of.

"Erza~!" This time the whine in his voice is unmistakable. Her lips quirk up as she quickly tosses the chocolate pack in the trolley and pushes it towards his voice.

When she turns the corner into the aisle, Erza can't help herself — she laughs.

Jellal is standing in the centre, staring with sharp scrutiny at the products in front of him. Littered at his feet are a whole host of products, different brightly-coloured boxes with various pictures of desserts on them. A glance up confirms her expectations: he has attacked and conquered the Home Baking section.

"Hey!" He brightens when he sees her, and scrambles around through the boxes scattered around his feet for one in particular. As she draws closer, he presents it with a flourish. "Look what I found! You might like this." Jellal grins soft and easy. "Thoughts?"

"Your sweet tooth will be the death of you," she laughs, shaking her head at him and taking a look at the box he's holding out. "Victoria sponge? We can easily buy that ready-made in the bakery section."

"Why would we do that?" He says it like it's some sort of outrage.

"It'll taste better than anything we try to make, I can promise you that much..."

"Ah, but the baked-at-home kind is the best kind." He winks at her, leaning forward to drop it into the trolley and unabashedly invading her personal space while he does so. "It's all about the experience, Erza."

So he's standing close to her, that's fine. No big deal. They've been dating for good a few months now, after all; some exchanged breaths are hardly noteworthy... is what Erza wants to will herself to believe.

She can tell the exact moment Jellal realises just how narrow the proximity of his face is to hers is — he pauses, eyes widening imperceptibly and, almost like he's unaware he's even doing it, glances down at her lips as his tongue darts out and wets his own.

"U-Um—" Erza leans back and his body follows her, an irresistible magnetism in his growing smirk. "Jellal, not here—"

"What not here?" He laughs under his breath, tone teasing, eyes even more so.

"Don't," she warns, trying to look serious. "We're in public."

His eyes glint mischievously. "So?"

Frustration and fondness grow in equal measure. " _So_ , what if someone sees? We can't just—"

But before she can get the words out, Jellal leans down all the way, his lips warm as they brush against hers. _S-Soft_ , her brain stutters, and before she can help it she's pressing back against the sweet pressure, his satisfied exhale warm against her mouth—

Someone clears her throat loudly behind Erza and they jump apart guiltily.

The rude old lady passes them by with agonising slowness, throwing them both tremendously disapproving glares as she does, and Jellal snickers when he catches Erza's glower, his own ears burning red even worse than her cheeks. She lightly smacks her boyfriend's arm, trying in vain not to laugh as well when it just makes him even wider.

"Ridiculous," she mutters, turning away as if to push the trolley away. Then, with a quick glance ahead to make sure the old lady is out of range, Erza rises to her tip-toes and steals a quick peck from Jellal. _Nothing's ever quite as satisfying as tricking the master_ , she thinks with a satisfied smirk, turning away and trying to slow down the racing beat in her chest.


	23. 11 ; reputation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...it might be a bit late in the game to explain this, but **_the numbers by each title are the age Erza is during that chapter_**. It's nonlinear so it jumps timelines all over the place. I have a big document putting them in chronological order; after all the chapters are uploaded, I'll put that up for anyone who'd like to re-read it (? ? ? who would do that lmao) in order.
> 
> But yeah. The numbers are her age. That's important hahaha. *pat pat* (It's my fault for not thinking to explain it earlier — sorry for the confusion!)

"Erza."

Glancing up at her teacher's voice, Erza sees him beckoning her to his desk. She walks to the front of the classroom, overly conscious of the multitude of curious glances being thrown her way by her classmates.

"Sensei?" she asks quietly.

"You're friends with Jellal, right?"

She blinks, caught a little off guard. _C-Could this be about the teasing...?_ "W-Well, yes..."

The teacher glances at the door with mild concern, his glasses low on the bridge of his nose. "I sent him to collect some books from the staff room at the beginning of class and he's been gone for a while now. Do you think you could check on him or something?" He smiles down at her kindly. "Maybe give him a hand or something?"

"Ah... Sure thing, sensei," Erza finds herself saying before walking towards the door, legs moving faster than they usually would. When she's closed the classroom door behind her, she lets out a little breath of relief, shoulders sagging.

 _He didn't have to be so direct about it,_ she can't help but think a little bitterly as she sets off down the corridor. It's not that she has any problem with helping Jellal carry the books — of course she doesn't, don't be silly. But kids are beady-eyed and cruel at their age, and already she can hear the whispers and see the smirks she's going to have to deal with at lunchtime.

Sensei had no way of knowing how much the other boys tease Jellal for hanging out with her, she knows that, but a small part of her can't help resent the well-meaning man just for his clumsy timing. Not on her behalf, but Jellal's, really... Erza's used to brushing off rude comments, after all, and Lucy could hardly care less who Erza's friends are as long as they're nice to her. Jellal's friends, on the other hand, aren't quite so understanding. It's always _girlfriend_ this and _sissy_ that — it's a pain, really, but when she suggested her talking to them her friend shut her down just like that, mumbling something about how that would only make it worse.

When Erza reaches the staff room, she can hear muffled grunts of exertion from inside. Peeking her head in, she realises it's deserted barring the boy in the corner. He's standing on a chair, fingers just shy of the cardboard box he's reaching for, hopping up and down a little in hopes of getting it.

Not wanting to startle him, Erza makes her way to him until she's standing close enough for him to notice her himself. And when he does, all he does is blink in confusion as if to ask what she's doing there.

"Sensei sent me to help," she offers mildly. "Shall... Shall I get them down?"

She doesn't mean anything nasty by it, but the expression that flits across his face looks... offended, for lack of a better word. But then Jellal blinks and it disappears, and with a shallow shrug he hops off the chair. "Sure."

 _The nurse said that girls hit their growth spurts faster than boys do,_ Erza has to keep herself from grumbling. _It's not like I **meant** to be taller than you, silly._ Erza carefully lowers the heavy box so that he can take it from her hands and place it on the ground. She daintily steps off the chair and crouches to inspect it.

"Are these the—" _books sensei was asking for?_

Jellal cuts her off. "Duh. I wasn't jumping around on a chair for the fun of it."

She purses her lips, irritated. _Someone's_ in a bad mood. He catches her peeved expression and looks mollified for a moment before turning his back to pick up the box.

"Here, let me get half—" She reaches forward, wanting to help, but freezes in the action when he visibly jerks away from her.

"I-It's not heavy!" Jellal says in a voice too loud. Erza frowns at him, bewildered. "I'm stronger than I look," he continues in a softer tone, looking a bit embarrassed. His cheeks flush pink and he doesn't quite meet her eye. "I've got it. It's okay. But thanks."

She opens her mouth, wanting to say something, but having no idea what she should. _Why's he acting so weird?_

Before she can find a way to put those thoughts into words, he's shuffling towards the door slowly, laden down by the heavy box of books. She frowns at his retreating form before following with a huff, her short-cropped hair flicking around her ears. _Boys are dumb,_ she decides, _and I don't get them. Not at all._


	24. 22 ; smitten

It has been two weeks since he showed up, windswept and hopeful and brave, on her doorstep, and the only thing Erza can think about right now is how _warm_ Jellal's hand feels on the small of her back.

It was adorable, really. They've been together in some form or another since they were five years old but he treated it like a first date all over again, picking her up with _roses_ of all things (because he knows, he knows, he _knows_ how weak she is for all things red). And hidden behind his back was a small pack of fresh — _fresh_ , Lord have mercy on her soul — strawberries, and they spent a solid forty minutes pretending to be romantic while really having a lowkey eating contest. A contest which naturally Erza won, especially considering Jellal outright refused to eat too much of 'her present'... _Could he be any cuter?_

The only reason they left the apartment at all was because they suddenly realised that the reservation Jellal made at the restaurant was going to run late if they didn't get going. And even then, _even then,_ they spent so long trying to get rid of the small red strain Jellal accidentally dribbled onto the oven mitts when he laughed too hard and squeezed a strawberry to mushy pulp (because he started going to the gym again, you know, he's working out again and _it's showing_ )—

Erza has to actually work to hide the small whine in the back of throat when his palm presses against her, warm and steady. Jellal holds the door out of her apartment complex open and all she can think about is that time in high school when she tried to do it for herself and he very literally caught her in his arms.

But then his fingers curl round to her waist, snapping her back to the present, and suddenly he's holding her steadily to his side. And they're standing so _close_ — she can smell his cologne, feel the warm muscles under his shirt contrasting deliciously with the cool night breeze fingering through her hair, and she swears the proximity is enough to make her dizzy...

 _God, but I missed you,_ her fingers say, gently curling around his bicep. _I missed the me that's only me when you're around._

"Erza..." His soft voice vibrates deep in his chest.

She hums contently. _Too fast, too fast,_ a part of her warns, but _finally_ laughs the rest in sweet relief. This is how they have always been, has it not? This is how it's supposed to be. And if they fall too easily, too comfortably, too naturally into that trust... is she anyone to stop it? _Should_ she be?

She had thought that the good memories of the boy next door were something confined to her childhood days, but sometimes, the past can be a person, too. It doesn't have to be something you carry around in your shoulders; it can be a locked box of moments hidden in someone else, just waiting — always waiting — to be remembered when it's needed. And maybe... Erza wonders, _maybe it's finally time._

"Erza."

"Hmm?"

"Not to... startle you or anything, but uh— I don't think I saw you lock your apartment door."

She freezes. "I—" Because, playing through it in her head... "Oh my God." Jellal laughs when she pushes him away in a small panic, spinning around to jam the key into the lock. "I'm so sorry, I'll be right back—"

He shakes his head, still smiling. "Not a problem."

"I just— I can't leave it like that—"

"Understandable."

"I won't be a moment—"

"It's _fine_ , Erza, I don't mind."

She glances back, lips pursed as their gazes lock. He just smiles that quiet smile, a smile from a gentle boy that he never quite outgrew, and makes a show of settling against the brick wall to wait. Erza's endeared, really, until it becomes clear he's trying not to smirk.

"I'll be right down," she says again, turning the key and pushing the door open.

"It's okay," Jellal says again. "Don't apologise." He glances up at the dark sky, like he's remembering something far away — _Hokkaido_ , her heart whispers, _and stars upon stars_ — before meeting her eyes again with another smile, softer, genuine, a little more secret; it's a smile just for her. "I'll wait."

She blinks. "...R-Right."

 _Sometimes,_ she realises, _the past can be a person, just waiting to repeat._


	25. 18 ; implosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for implied substance abuse (re: drugs).

Erza doesn't know how it went so wrong so quickly. She can't for the life of her fathom it.

"Jellal," she hisses, shaking him roughly, "Jellal, get up, the police are here, _get up_ —"

He groans, bleary eyes blinking open. When he looks at her, his gaze is unfocused and hazy, pupils dilated. "Mmm... 'za?"

Her stomach drops as she realises: _he's still completely out of it._

"Get up, you idiot, the police are out front and they're gonna come in and they're gonna find you and—" She grunts as she pulls him up, pretty much dragging him out of the dim stinking kitchen into the garden "—right now, you are—" He stumbles against her but she doesn't slow down, pulling him violently away from the house "—absolutely _fucked up_."

Erza doesn't like to swear. It's too violent, too vulgar, too easily avoidable; reminds her too much of her father, of screaming matches and—... and just too many things she wants to forget. So when she _does_ and you know her, you know something is very, very wrong. And Jellal does, he _does_ know her that well—

He was supposed to, anyway. Except right now there's so much heroin in his system that he's not himself, he's not the boy who's supposed to know her better than anyone; he's someone else entirely. A weakling on a forced euphoric high waiting for the drop, someone who left her and that trust behind as he flies through clouds in his mind, who gave _up_ on her—

Erza has to stop the thought right there. Thinking about it makes her eyes burn, her jaw tense, and her hands itch to hit something.

"Why... Why're you helpin' me?" Jellal mumbles. Or, at least, she thinks he does, but it's slurred and mumbled and half the words don't make it past his numb lips.

She gives another violent tug on his arm, sends him stumbling into her again, and tenses herself against his added weight.

"Just because."

The words come out like poison, and she wonders hopelessly for the millionth time when her sweet boy next door turned into someone who could break her heart so often and so _easily_. When, and how, and why.

Except she knows. Of course she does. Just because Jellal gave up on understanding Erza doesn't mean she returned the favour.


	26. 21 ; red string

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so who wants to hear about the stupid thing i did. i accidentally posted ch27 as ch26. yes, i _actually_ managed to do this.
> 
> Also, update on the **_playlist_** thing— 8tracks' recently changed international streaming service (i.e. the removal of it...) kind of threw a spanner in the works, considering I'm outwith the US myself; no worries, I'll figure something out, but ughhh annoying... In the meantime, let's add Bare by Wildes to the list of must-listens.

"Did you read it?"

"Hmm?" Erza takes the cup from the barista, murmurs a quick, "Thank you," and moves on down the street. "Sorry, what was that?" she says into the receiver, balancing the phone against her shoulder as she switches the warm cup to her right hand and then phone to her left. "I just got my coffee, I didn't quite catch what you said, sorry."

Jellal laughs into her ear. It makes her smile into the rim of her cup; smile like she can't help it, like it's the instinctual reaction to his own. "The comic link I sent you, did you read it?"

"Oh, yeah." She nods even though he can't see it. "The 'string of fate' thing? Yeah, I did."

"And?"

"Hmm~?" Erza can't resist teasing him, just a little. "And what?"

This time his laugh is more a huff than anything else. " _And,_ what did you think? Did you like it?"

She takes a moment to ponder the question, sipping from her cup and dodging pedestrians walking the other way. The streets are always the most crowded at this time, loud and busy and packed, but given how exhausted Erza is after her morning classes and subsequent 8 hour shift, the early mornings are the best time to talk to Jellal — really the _only_ time she can set aside if she wants to talk with her boyfriend every day. And there's something strangely intimate about it, something Erza loves a bit too much about having a conversation that only they can understand. The world around her hears half, but the rest — the rest is hers to keep. Like Jellal is her own best-kept secret.

They have both, after all, gotten so much better at keeping each other's secrets like the should.

"It was okay," she eventually offers, side-stepping around a sandwich stall. "I don't think it was anything amazing, though, I mean... I probably wasn't the target audience. The art was gorgeous and the ending was definitely emotional, but—" she dodges out of the way of a flustered salary man "—I'm not sure I buy the whole soulmate thing, so..."

"No?" He sounds amused, or maybe just interested. She can't tell over the slightly crackly line. "You don't believe in fate?"

She comes to a stop by a crossing and readjusts her backpack. "I don't think some overarching power is keeping tabs on everyone to make sure they end up with the other half of their heart, no. I don't know, the idea of there only being one other person _for_ you out there is a bit scary. The chances of never meeting are so high. And if you screw it up, that's it, game over. I don't like the idea of that at all." The light turns green and she starts walking. "Too many risks, too many ways it could go wrong. Fate's too _flimsy_."

"I should have guessed you'd think like that." _Am I mistaken or does Jellal sound..._ Despite herself, she can her cheeks warm in a light flush. Because his tone is so unabashedly fond, so entirely endeared, and... Honestly, doesn't he ever get embarrassed at all?

 _Of course he does_ , she knows. _He just doesn't let it stop him._

"But Erza," he continues, obviously not aware of how flustered he just accidentally made her, "it's kind of romantic in it's own way, don't you think? Because the thing is, right, if you're _really_ soulmates, you're fated to meet, and you're fated to work out. What if it was like that? That no matter the obstacles or the fights or the distance, you always end up together when it's over. And if that doesn't work out, there's always the next life as well... Like infinite second chances. I don't know, something like that... I could believe it. I could want to."

The flush on her cheeks is certainly not faint anymore. She's waiting at another traffic light, watching the red little man across the road and listening to Jellal's words with a fluttering feeling in her chest. _Obstacles, fights, distance..._ "Are— Are we still talking about the e-comic?"

She closes her eyes against his soft laugh in her ear, and takes a slow sip of her coffee, savouring the heat.

"Are you crossing the street now?" Jellal says softly, an entirely different meaning wrapped in his words, hidden just for her. "Look both ways, love."

 _I could believe it,_ she echoes, heart thumping too hard. _I could want to._

The light turns green, and she walks.


	27. 18 ; regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for implied abusive treatment.
> 
>  **edit:** accidentally posted as ch26 but... no,,,...,..

He's waiting for her by the school gates and Erza storms past him, not sparing him a glance.

"E-Erza, wait!"

She doesn't — doesn't want to see him, doesn't want to hear what he has to say, doesn't want any of it at all.

But he's following her, keeping pace as she rushes past the open school pitches. She can see the younger students going through their warm-ups for various sports clubs; can imagine a few of them slowing down, pointing and whispering, wondering about the weird third years sprinting by.

Eventually, she has no choice but to confront him and Erza does so like thunder, loud and sudden and a moment too late; she spins around and levels him with a dark glare. "Leave me alone, would you? I want one day to myself, is that too much to ask, Jellal?"

She can taste the lie on her tongue, hear it crackle and fall apart in the air.

"I—" He looks stricken, as if he wasn't expecting her to lash out at him. _And why the hell wouldn't I?_ Erza wants to demand. _Why do you think there are no lines you can't cross?_ "I just wanna... apologise to you," he says hesitantly.

She raises an eyebrow, expression cold. There's a part of Erza that wants to accept that, a huge side of her that feels like she's over-reacting, acting out, not being fair to him because he's trying, isn't he? He's being brave, isn't he? This isn't like her. This isn't in her character, not at all.

But then Lucy's angry words come to the forefront of her mind: _if he can forget himself, then you can too,_ and the burning anger returns tenfold.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Jellal continues. He swallows, seems to steady himself, and then looks her in the eye as if he's been working himself up to this all day. "I didn't mean it, I know it's not true you're asking for it—"

She has to clench her teeth against the sudden burn of tears, and is so thankful that the street they're on right now is usually deserted. "What does it matter if it's true or not? You said it, and now they _think_ it, and—"

"It's not like that, Erza, I swear," Jellal says clumsily. From the way he's squinting against the afternoon sunlight, she guesses he's still hungover, and gets a vindictive pleasure from it. And then hates herself for feeling guilty about it because she's _allowed_ (but also hates herself for thinking it at all, because she didn't _have_ to). Jellal stumbles on, "They were all piss-drunk, they don't remember half the shit that happened, I swear, it didn't even register—"

"You had no right to tell them anything," she cuts him off. "You had no right to say that at all. You _told_ them."

"I know. I know, I'm sorry, I know." He glances away from her for a second and when he looks back there's something cruel in his eyes, something careless. "But you know, it wouldn't have mattered anyway, like... They all have their own shit, their own sob stories." _Sob stories,_ she registers numbly. _You're calling my abusive father a sob story._ "They get it is all I'm sayin', and I know it wasn't a funny joke, I just— Erza, I was so drunk, I was half out of my mind, I had no idea the rubbish I was spouting—"

"That's not the _point_ , Jellal!" She cringes at the hint of hysteria in her voice. Erza works to tone it down; she doesn't want him to see this, doesn't want him to know, doesn't want any of it at all. Because _this_ is what happens when he knows; _this_ is what he does. But all she can do is repeat herself: "That's... That's not the point at all..."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, staring at the ground. "I didn't mean to."

She exhales shakily. She doesn't know what to say... so she says just that, and walks away, leaving him standing by the road watching her retreating form.

The words she didn't say, couldn't say, maybe _refused_ to say come to her much later; curled up in bed, staring at her phone screen for a message that will never come. _How can I trust you with my heart when you can't even trust yourself with your mouth?_

And the truth of it is terrifying. In that moment, if Erza could take it back, she would. If she could take it all back—

But it's redundant. He already knows the secrets she doesn't want him to tell. He already thrown it all away. So she puts her phone on her bedside table and rolls over to face the wall. Doesn't bother turn it to silent. Erza knows she won't be getting any texts tonight.

Some things you give once, and can never take back.


	28. 23 ; treat

"Try some," he suggests, tilting the cone so the ice-cream is halfway between the two of them. "It's nice."

Erza huffs out a little chuckle. "No, I'm okay, thanks. You keep that mess to yourself."

"Seriously!" he insists, leaning forward to take another lick of the apple sorbet and pulling away with a satisfied hum, trying to tempt her. "Delicious."

Except he does so with a tiny smear of green on his nose. Erza can't stop herself before she yelps out a laugh far too loud and sudden, and he frowns at her in an amused sort of confusion. She can't stop, doesn't even think to reach for tissues or simply _tell him_ , and he continues to look at her with an eyebrow raised until she's wiping a tear from her eye, grinning at him with red cheeks.

"You... absolute dork." Erza doesn't think it through before she does it — it just seems like the logical next step to lean forward and kiss the ice-cream from his nose, finishing with a tiny little lick. She smiles as she pulls away. "I adore you."

Jellal is staring at her, wide-eyed and shocked. "You— I—"

She smacks her lips for effect, loving the way his gaze flicks down to her mouth as she does so. "Delicious," Erza giggles, feeling giddy and sexy and entirely unlike her usual self.

Jellal visibly gulps, all thoughts of ice-cream apparently gone. He raises an unsteady hand to his face, covers his eyes as an embarrassed smile peeks out. Erza can see the tips of his ears blushing red, and is utterly endeared.

His hand lowers slightly. "You... That was _sneaky_..." he mutters into his palm, looking at her with smiling eyes. "You don't play fair at all."

"Nope," Erza agrees readily, before stealing another lick of the cold treat. "I guess I don't."


	29. 21 ; distance

"I wish I didn't have to go," he murmurs into her hair, twirling one of the ends around his finger. "So annoying..."

"Oh, hush." Erza grins into the crook of his neck. "It's only for a week, you'll be fine. Just drive safely."

" _Will_ I though? What if I can't come back? What if I die?"

She snorts. "Why on earth would you die? You're visiting family, not visiting a warzone."

"...From loneliness."

He bursts into laughter and pushes her away, flinching and grinning as she gives him a hearty whack in the ribs. But before she can turn away to hide her embarrassedly pleased expression, he's pulled her into another tight embrace, exhaling against the crown of her head.

Erza pouts resolutely. "You're teasing me."

He squeezes his arms around her, and whispers back, "If you don't want me to tease you, stop being so cute when I do."


	30. 20 ; first, please, finally

_Be subtle about it,_ Gray had said. _Don't be needy or desperate but sneakily make him aware that you have... needs. Keep your cool. Stay in control._

Right.

Needs.

Erza sneaks a glance at her boyfriend on the sofa beside her. He looks plenty engrossed in the movie they're watching right now, some sci-fi sequence with aliens and giant sea monsters — or, if Erza's not mistaken, they're the same thing? — and Jellal seems quite content with continuing the rest of the night this way.

Like hell Erza's gonna settle for that.

She gently shifts so that she's leaning against his arm, and almost immediately he lifts it so that she can snuggle into his side and lowers it to drape around her waist, hugging her to him. All without moving his eyes from the screen.

Okay. Great. _That_ worked.

 _Be clever about it,_ Lucy had said. _Go about it in such a way that by the end of it, he's thanking the universe that **you** were down for it. Make **him** want **you**. Like a puppet on a string. Let him do all the work._

"Jellal, honey," Erza tries, "don't you think this film is a little... boring?"

He glances at her, blinks, hums in agreement, and goes back to watching.

"Jellal," she repeats, "I'm feeling a little tense..."

"Do you wanna go lie down?" he offers with mild concern, engrossed in watching the giant robot beat up the giant sea alien.

 _Do you wanna come with me?_ Erza almost snaps. Instead, she makes a show of stretching out her neck, lifting her arms so that her t-shirt rises to reveal a hint of hipbone and being sure to let out an appreciative moan as she does.

She glances back hopefully. Surely that got the message across.

What she's met with is a boyfriend who is still very much watching a CGI action sequence and not his sexy, very present, and very willing girlfriend.

She narrows her eyes. _Seriously?_

 _Be honest about it,_ Natsu had said. _Take off your top, straddle him, and spell out 'let's fuck' in hickeys on his neck. That's sure to get the message across._

" _Jellal_ ," Erza eventually says, "let's stop watching the movie."

"Hmm?" He _finally_ looks away from the screen. "You don't like it? I'd have thought you'd love the action in it, it's renowned for it..."

Well, not that the fighting sequences aren't wonderfully choreographed, but Erza's kinda hoping for a different kind of action right now. She bites her lip and shakes her head, all but blinking up at him through her eyelashes.

Jellal doesn't seem to notice, but he does at least mute the TV. "Well," he says politely, "what do you want to do?"

That's when he finally looks at her properly; he sees the half-lidded gaze, the smirk hidden behind a bitten lip, the suggestive curve of her body leaning into his. His eyes widen, and he stutters for a second.

 _Finally_ , the boy _gets_ it. She slowly rises to her knees, his eyes locked with hers the whole time as she settles down against across his lap. His hands flutter to a rest on her hips, his eyes flicking down to her lips before catching her gaze again.

"I can think of a few things," she whispers, suddenly feeling a little shy. _Of all the times..._

But this is Jellal, and Jellal is as terrible at communication as she is, but Jellal is also _brave_. "Finally—" he laughs brokenly, leaning forward and catching a surprised Erza in a heated kiss. He murmurs against her lips, "You can't imagine how long I've been waiting for this."

She chokes on a quiet giggle and brings her hands up to card her fingers through his hair. "Oh, trust me, baby. I can."


	31. 9 ; aragog

The first bell rings just as they finish up Chapter Fourteen.

They're curled up in a quiet corner of the school library, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets balanced against their touching knees. Jellal groans out loud and Erza huffs, hands clutching tighter around her half of the book as if it'll make time turn back and return them to the beginning of lunchtime.

The two children turn to each other, eyes wide.

"What's Aragog?" Erza wonders allowed. "That's the name of the next chapter but I have no idea what it means..."

"What if Hogwarts really closes?" Jellal whispers back, looking supremely worried. "Do you suppose we could make the new one in Japan?"

"If Hermione doesn't get saved, I'm never reading another book again," Erza announces grandly.

"You know..." Jellal glances up at the clock on the far wall. "That was just the first bell. We have five more minutes..."

He shares a look of understanding with his best friend, lips pursed, before they both break out into wide grins. "One more chapter," they agree together, and huddle up close to start reading again.


	32. 24 ; entropy

It's getting worse. That much she understands.

"Don't worry about me," Jellal always says, smiling his stupid quiet smile and trying to hide that _stupid_ wince and always, always, always failing. In and out of the hospital, in and out, always in and out, never staying in once place, never staying together, only ever just falling apart, _imploding_...

"Erza? ...Erza. Erza!"

"S-Sorry," she stammers, tightening her hand around the phone. "You were saying?"

Gray stays silent on his end for a moment, but his lack of response has enough judgement in it as it is.

She sighs and switches the phone to her other ear. "Sorry, I just zoned out."

"I get it," he says. "It's okay."

 _ **Do** you get it though? Do you really?_ Erza wants to ask. And that is the sign that she has been alone in this apartment for far too long, because the bitterness is building up inside her and she knows— she just knows that she needs to get out.

"Let's meet up this week," she says impulsively. "All four of us. We can go out, do something crazy, or just grab a drink, water. But let's all meet up."

He laughs at that, no hesitation. "Hell yes. I'm buying you at least three drinks, and you can't—"

"Gray—!"

"And you can't say no!" he finishes, smirk clear in his voice. "Damn it, Erza, let us spoil you a little. That's what friends are for, right?"

She smiles a genuine smile, and it feels wonderful on her lips. Good, and alien. "If you say so."

"I do."

"Good."

"Good."

They both crack up. The weight on her shoulders feel ten tonnes lighter.


	33. 19 ; like rain on mars

For all her rushing over in the rain, Erza actually manages to be five minutes early for her first lecture. She lets out all her breath in one shallow huff, a little irritated but mostly relieved, and shakes the water from her hair.

Sendai is a beautiful city, that much is for sure, but living on the pacific coast sure leaves her with a lot of freak weather to contend with. She wonders idly if the sudden shower will carry into the weekend, and whether her plans with Natsu and Lucy to go hiking in the nearby mountains will be able to survive the downpour.

It's this thought that has her caught up in her own head and blind to what's happening around her, and it's this thought — this traitorous thought, this blessed thought — that is to blame for her being taken by surprise.

"Erza?"

When she first hears him, she swears it's a mistake. Because it _has_ to be, there's no way he's here, there's absolutely no way... But sure as anything, when she looks to her left there he stands, high-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, hair as scruffy as ever, a laptop case resting against his hip.

"J-Jellal..." she says stupidly. Before she can stop herself the words tumble out, falsely accusatory: "What are you doing here?"

 _He's going to class, of course,_ her mind supplies too late, but the question still stands. The last time she saw him, he was... Well, he was on a downward spiral. How else can she describe it? He was falling apart. He _had_ fallen apart; Erza has the shrapnel scars to prove it.

"I go to university here," he says, shuffling awkwardly on his feet but seemingly unable to tear his eyes from her.

"How did you—" Again, her thoughts escape without a filter, but she catches herself just in time. "I-I didn't know—" she tries instead, but it sounds just as bad. _He's like the rain_ , she can't help but think. _Out of nowhere; disrupting her plans like a flood; soaking everything in it's transparent colours._

Like a sudden downpour, but stranger; like a sudden downpour on Mars.

Jellal smiles ruefully, finally breaking eye contact to look at the ground instead. "That I graduated? Yeah, I wasn't... They weren't gonna let me, not after that last year, but I, uh..." He clears his throat. "I took some supplementary classes in the summer, sat my exams, got accepted, and— uh, well, here I am." His laugh sounds pained.

"Here you are," she echoes. He was one track for Tokyo. He was supposed to be the brightest kid in their year, graduating at the top of the class. "What are you studying?"

"Astrophysics. Just like I..."

"Like you always wanted." She nods. "Right."

"Basically," he coughs out another little embarrassed laugh, "I got my shit together. About time I did, so. Yeah. I had no idea you'd be here, too, though. This is— such a surprise, wow."

"It... sure is that," Erza says hollowly.

They stand in awkward silence for a moment; Jellal unreadable, Erza reeling. It's too much for her to take, too much of a shock, too sudden. The black hole where she'd tried ( _failed)_ to banish all thoughts of him is open and growing, and all her words seem to have fallen in.

"I'm sorry to ask this so suddenly," Jellal breaks the silence, "and this is way off topic, but... is that my hoodie?"

"Huh?" She looks down to affirm and is promptly mortified because _yes, it definitely is his old NASA hoodie_. "Oh my God. I- I'm sorry, I— I didn't have a chance to return it, I just— s-sometimes wear it, you know, just—" Her laugh is so strained it even makes _her_ cringe.

"No, no, please!" Jellal has the gall — the _bravery_ , a traitorous smitten nostalgic part of her supplies — to laugh. "I was just noticing. I'm happy." He gives her his token smile and it does strange things to a knot inside her ribcage. "Keep it, please. It looks good on you."

The doors to her lecture hall opens and students from the previous class filter out. Erza takes the opportunity to duck out of view and rushes into the class, diving into the first vacant seat and unpacking her bag with false fervour.

When her classmate asks her why she's red, if she's feeling okay, and suggests she might have a cold from the weather, Erza laughs her off with an altogether too manufactured smile. "The rain doesn't get to me so easily," she lies.


End file.
